Hold On
by fiath
Summary: What if Sam never died? Sam Cortland has been held prisoner in the dungeons of the Assassins Guild for over a year but one day when there has been reported sightings of Celaena, he escapes and sneaks into the competition to become the King's Champion to see Celaena. Though, with Abroynn and all the assassins after him, will he survive?
1. ONE

**All characters belong to the lovely Sarah J. Maas.**

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><p>ONE<p>

The same nightmare has haunted Sam Cortland in his sleep every night for the past year. It was more of a memory rather than a nightmare because nightmares weren't exactly real. The things he kept seeing in the midst of his sleep, _those_ were torturingly real –they _happened_ and even if he didn't like it, they still occurred and he couldn't change it.

Sam propped his body up using his elbow with a groan. His back was aching –he still hasn't grown accustomed to the stiff material Abroynn called a mattress.

Abroynn –the King of assassins and once his mentor whom everyone bowed down to. Abroynn –the man who always featured in his nightmares with the woman he loved.

He punched the wall beside him despite knowing that the result would be painful. Why does it matter anyhow? The pain that he felt in his fingers was nothing compared to what Celaena would be going through in the Salt Mines. If she was still alive.

He ran his fingers through his shaggy hair as he looked out the barred window near the roof of his cell –only just reaching the ground outside. He could see the sun beginning to rise through the dirt of the ground. In the Salt Mines, Celaena wouldn't even have the luxury of seeing the sun through dirt.

It was because of him Celaena Sardothien was in the Endovier working as a slave. If he just stayed with her...

Sam punched the stone wall again and sighed. Not only is he out of her reach, Celaena believed he was dead –gone. He was supposed to be dead, he wanted more than anything to be dead rather than be here in the dungeons –the same dungeon where they tied him up and made him watch her drape her arms around a dead body that was supposed to be his.

He pushed the bed away from the stone wall towards the irons of his cell, the feet of the metal frame squeaking against the concrete floors echoing through the lowest floor of the Assassins' Guild. It didn't matter that he made noise because no one was down here at this time of day –the only people who came down here were the maids who fed him at dusk.

Not even Abroynn came to see him. Abroynn –the man responsible for Celaena's capture and his own. His former mentor ignited the flame of vexation within him. Sam vowed to kill Abroynn the night he beat Celaena up until she was knocked out on his carpet and he would fulfil it eventually.

A newfound sense of motivation sprouted in his mind as he repeatedly punched the same ivory stone with both of his fists until his knuckles began to bleed but even then he kept going. He wasn't going to give up –not yet, not until he knows Celaena is safe.

This was the first time in ages he was focused on something rather than his nightmares –something other than the last time he saw Celaena mourning over his fake death with Abroynn watching her, lying to her.

His punches became harder and faster as his mind flashed to images of the King of Assassins not even showing any sympathy to his heartbroken protégée –his silver eyes glassed with neutrality and his body rigid.

How could Celaena not have noticed?

_Because she believes you're dead_, he roared at himself in his mind as he punched the stone even harder, gashes in his hands leaked blood onto the floor and flew onto his bare chest.

Hands, soft and manicured, stop his from taking its next punch, tightening its fingers around Sam's bloody wrists.

"Sam, that's enough," an eloquent, female voice ordered that he both hated and feared. What is she doing here?

He shakes off her grip and squints at her, the window behind her head showering sunlight directly onto his eyes. "What do _you_ want? How did you get in here?" He spat.

Sam glanced at the cell bars behind him and saw part of the bed pushed out and the door open. He must have been unable to hear it when he was punching the stone.

Madam Clarisse chuckled with amusement, "I'm here to help you –rescue you even. Doesn't that sound heroic mister Cortland?"

"Is this how you're repaying my family for my Mother building your fortune, helping me escape?"

She laughed again, waving her hands in front of herself. "Darling Sam, I don't owe you anything."

"Then what do you want from me," he growled, straightening his posture so he towered over her. She didn't even flinch.

"Celaena is alive and healthy," she said each word slow and soft as her eyes analysed his reaction but he kept his face neutral.

Celaena is still alive? The average life span for slaves in the mines was a month so for her to survive over a year was absurd but it was Celaena Sardothien –_his_ Celaena Sardothien, the most notorious assassin in Adarlan.

He concealed his smile by examining his hands, his face away from Clarisse's sight. The wounds had bits of ivory stone in them and blood covered his hands like gloves but he didn't feel any of it, not as mush as his burning desire to hold Celaena once again, to hear her whisper his name.

"She was just spotted a few hours ago on a horse behind the Crown Prince, Dorian Havilliard, and the royal guards. It has been said that she is the Prince's new lady but knowing Celaena, I told my sources in the castle to find out what she really was doing and it seems that she's competing in a competition to become the King's Champion and Dorian Havilliard has chosen _her_," she said the last word in disgust which would of made Celaena smirk.

"The King's Champion?" He glanced up at Clarisse in perplexity. Celaena absolutely hated the King so why would she want to become his Champion?

Madam Clarisse made her way to his bed and sat upon it, sighing with annoyance. "The King's Champion is a role given to an outlaw to do his dirty work."

That would explain why Dorian chose her but not why she would agree. Was there bribery involved? Blackmail? Was he doing it against her will?

What was he thinking, nobody could make Celaena do anything against her will.

He smiled at the thought but his smile soon turned into a pained line. Thinking of Celaena made his heart ache.

"Why are you helping me escape then?" he furrowed his brow as he faced her sitting body, her black gown making her look slimmer and younger. This all didn't add up.

She picked at the hem of his tattered pillow and spoke without looking up at him. "I'm helping you because this is a golden opportunity where you will owe me because you have nothing now," her lips curled into a cruel smile.

"Not only am I going to help you escape, I already have a spot for you in the competition and it's yours if you want it," she leaned back onto the irons of the cell and eyes Sam with a smugness that makes him want to run away from her.

She knows he would rather die than spend another day rotting in the cell so he would usually decline her offer but having a spot in the competition meant seeing Celaena again –seeing her beautiful face smile at him rather than the image of her mourning over his fake death. He would do anything to see her again and Clarisse knew it.

Sam pushes the bed back into its spot with Clarisse jumping off before her legs get squashed onto the stone walls. She pats her dress to rid invisible dust.

He rubs his eyes and sighs. "I accept your offer Madam Clarisse, though, how are you going to get me out of here?"

"You underestimate my power," was all she said before she fled the cell and re-locked the iron door, leaving him in the same position he was in an hour earlier.


	2. TWO

**All characters belong to the lovely Sarah J. Maas.**

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><p>TWO<p>

By the time Madam Clarisse returned, it was dusk.

At first, Sam thought it was just another one of the maids bringing him his daily meal of stale bread and cold, thick soup that tasted like chicken at first but had a bitter after taste. Though, when he looked closer at her face, he saw that it was Clarisse holding a wooden tray and his meal with one hand and a pair of tattered clothes in the other with her fingers holding a pair of boots.

Sam scoffed, "_This_ is the power you said I was undermining?"

Clarisse dropped the tray on his bed beside him and scowled. "Having servants helping you is rather imperative when there are so many _everywhere_ and in the thresholds of some of the most powerful people in Adarlan." Her sharp eyes twinkled with mischief as she unfastened her hood, letting her hair fall over her shoulders like leaves falling off an Autumn tree.

"Change into this," she threw the tattered clothing at his chest before turning to the broken sink on the other side of the cell.

As he stood up to turn his back, Sam examined her briefly, running his eyes over her slim figure. With her long curls and pale skin she could have been wedded as soon as she was of age but she chose this life –this life of selling young men and women off for a profit which she took most of.

Normally, he would feel disgusted but everyone has there own reasons for doing the things they do and Sam has surely learnt that.

He sighed, opening his mouth partly, as he spread the thin attire in front of him. The bottom of the tunic was covered in, what looked like and he hoped was, mud and bits of rocks. The trousers were ripped into knee-high shorts in which he didn't mind but the shoes, they were moist the moment he slid his calloused feet into them –moist with _sweat_, like she just pulled the footwear off a working slave.

Once he was dressed in the servant attire, Clarisse examined him and scowled.

He returned the scowl, "What is the problem now?"

She approached him until their bodies were only centimetres apart and raised her hand into his hair, styling it in random directions making his hair look wilder.

Clarisse stepped back and scowled again as she stared at his hair. "You would have made a brilliant courtesan," she murmured to herself but Sam couldn't help but feel like it was directed him.

Opening the cell door, she pulled out a rusted key out from the lock and placed it in the pocket of her maid dress. Madam Clarisse motioned for Sam to follow and he did, closing the door behind him.

They proceeded down passageways where he could barely fit his shoulders in and up stairways that reeked of rotten food and the salty smell of blood until finally they reached a honey oak door with light illuminating through cracks. The air smelt like sweet bread and made his stomach grumble.

"This is where we bid our farewells young Sam Cortland," she whispered but if she wanted to be quiet she didn't need to whisper because on the other side of the door there were loud shouts and curses that could cover any sound of chatter.

Clarisse lifted a finger towards the door, "Through this door is a kitchen to a bakery in the middle of Rifthold."_ Ah, no wonder._ "A man dressed in black will be waiting in the bakery alone at a table in the farthest corner from the door at this very moment."

She grabbed his shoulders, digging her glossy nails into his shoulder blades, and stared into his eyes, "Sam, whatever you do, _don't_ forget who saved you and absolutely _don't_ let Abroynn find you. If he captures you and discovers that I was the one who assisted you, not only will my career demonise, you will be _dead_."

Sam ran his hands through his hair, moving it back into its usual place. "Then why are you helping me if it's a huge risk?"

"I already told you mister Cortland," she turned the knob to the door and opened it, shoving him inside. Immediately, a wave of heat surrounded him and he felt grateful for the thin material of his clothing. Sam looked back and saw water gleaming on the surface of her eyes.

"And besides, this is my last act of help for the Cortland family. May your Mother rest in peace knowing that I don't owe her for her death." With the last word, she slammed the door shut on him, leaving Sam stunned.

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><p>Passing through the door separating the kitchen and the bakery, Sam was suddenly aware of his appearance in a fancy bakery in the centre of Rifthold. He soon realised that his deviance wasn't an issue once no pair of eyes bothered to look his way except for one pair of vivd green eyes in the farthest corner from the glass front door.<p>

He looked young –much more younger than he expected. He looked like he was in his early twenties, only a few years older than Sam himself.

When he approached the round table, the green-eyed man with one hand on a cup of coffee whispered his name with humour. For some absurd reason Sam believed that he met this man once before, once with Celaena when they were young.

The young man motioned his free hand at the seat and Sam took it. The seat was cushioned with silk and framed with oak. Celaena would of taken a liking to this bakery.

"My, my Sam Cortland," his voice was low and smooth like he was fully aware of who had all the cards here.

Sam gazed blankly at the man and took note of his features. The young man was undeniably handsome. His hair was golden brown and he had sharp features but he couldn't help but take note of the darkness shadowing his eyes, like he just awoke from the pits of hell itself.

Celaena would fawn over him without a moment hesitation…

_She already has_, screamed a voice in his head.

And with that, Sam stared at the young man with perplexity and he stared back, amused. Who was this man? Why was there a sense of familiarity within his appearance?

He dropped his porcelain cup of coffee and exhaled loudly. "Don't tell me you have forgotten who I am Cortland."

At that moment, at that exact moment, his name rolled off his tongue making the young man beam. "Archer Finn."


	3. THREE

**All characters belong to the lovely Sarah J. Maas.**

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><p>THREE<p>

Archer hadn't stop smiling even when they ordered custard filled bread and a coffee for Sam. He also hadn't spoken a word so Sam was feeling unsure of what to do, all he did was nod –in fact, his neck was getting sore from all the awkward nodding he was doing.

His young companion took another sip from his coffee, watching Sam, searching for something. Archer drops the cup back on the saucer that had little violets painted on the edge and scoops another spoonful full of sugar**.**

"You look pale Sam, how have you been," he drops the metal teaspoon into the dark coffee and mixes it. Sam could hear the metal and the glass faintly clinking against each other despite the loud ruckus coming from within the kitchen.

"I've been…" _Should he lie or tell the truth? What would he gain from lying thoug__h?_

Nothing.

He sighed and dropped both of his arms flat on the table, "I have been damn right terrible."

To that, Archer laughed an honest-to-good laugh and raised his cup, motioning for Sam to raise his. "That is as expected from a dead man Samuel. Life is a pure sweet torture."

He clinked his cup with Archer's.

"Life is a pure sweet torture," he murmured before draining his own coffee.

Archer pushed his empty cup aside along with everything else in the centre of the wooden table –floral decoration, a pot of sugar and the empty plate that held the two custard bread which Sam ate ravenously. As his arm stretched out to reach for Sam's finished coffee, the edge of his suede jacket sleeve rose to his wrist and Sam noticed a tattoo that he hasn't seen before.

"Now, time for some seriousness," Archer's voice lowered, "The competition starts in a week from now. You will enter under an alias. Your name will be Nathaniel Wellington –a young man who ran away from his boring rich life to become a assassin for the thrill."

He crinkled his nose at the last word. There was absolutely no _thrill_ in killing people and anyone who knew Sam knew that he was an assassin for anything _but_ the thrill. It was different for him –being an assassin was his mother's dying wish and it was either this or being a courtesan… like Archer.

Sam glanced at him again. Word has it that Archer has been building a rebel group but he highly doubted that. It was _Archer Finn_ after all, the prince of beauty. When they were younger all he worried about was his hair. He probably still does but…

He watched him as he scratched behind his ear, the tattoo peaking out of his sleeve once again. Archer hated the idea of piercing or tattooing his skin, so, what changed?

"If you want to see Celaena, you need to survive the tests they throw," Archer flung his hand towards him like he was throwing a dart, "at you. You have one week to train."

A girl no older than fifteen approaches the table, "Would you like anything else gentlemen?"

She asked both of them but her eyes were trained on Archer the whole time as she twirled her ruby hair, Sam was completely oblivious to her. He fought the urge to vomit.

Without looking at her, he responded. "Actually, we were just leaving ma'am."

The waitress bit her bottom lip harshly before turning away and attending another table.

"That was rather rude for Archer Finn," he stood out of his seat and sighed through his words.

Archer stood up with him and placed a gold coin on the table. "People change over time Samuel. Some for the worse and some for the better but they certainly do change," he replied tiredly.

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><p>They arrived at Archer's townhouse in his horse-drawn carriage. It was nothing as he expected. The house was missing half of its roof and the door was off its hinges –it was just placed against the frame to make it look like the door was closed.<p>

"Is this seriously your home Archer?" He asked, stepping out of the carriage and onto a gravel path. He'd thought there would be golden framed windows and statues made of marble.

Archer chuckled as he proceeded down the path towards the broken door. "Not by far. I live in an uptown threshold with Madam Clarisse and Lysandra."

Lysandra. Celaena hated her –she was even _jealous_ of her which was preposterous. She was the most beautiful being on Earth so what was there to be jealous of...

"This is where we will be staying while your assassin friends are on the lookout for you until you live in the glass castle for the competition," he lifted the door up and moved it aside with a quiet grunt.

Inside, the furniture was brand new with plastic sheeting covering them. The rooms were surprisingly clean unlike the outside. Deception.

Archer unveiled a dark red couch and sat down with a low thud. "Training time Cortland," he said, lifting his foot onto his knee and raising his arms around the couch head.

He sighed, "What do I do?"

"I don't know. I'm a damn _courtesan_, what would I know about assassin training? Throw knives at a tree, run laps, do whatsoever pleases you!"

And so, he did. It became a daily routine for the next week.

At dawn, he would run laps around the front and back yard until his legs were unable to take another step. Afterwards, he would have breakfast with Archer who disappeared when they weren't dining. At noon, he would walk out to the Avery River and throw kitchen knives at different trees like they were enemies of his.

Once he was done, he would rest near the river then go home and run more laps until Archer came back from wherever he constantly vanished to. He never asked him any questions about where he went because Archer was giving him another chance to see Celaena and he didn't want that chance to be taken away from him… Like everything else in his life.

The day before the competition Archer came home with a cardboard box.

"Cortland, you need to look presentable when you meet the King and the other competitors since you are going to be representing my name," he opened the box and held out a tunic darker than the night sky. Sam pressed his fingers between the material. Linen. Not the best but still expensive.

"And this," he pulled a sword out of the box and unsheathed it, revealing the image of a Phoenix burnt into the blade, "Is a gift from me to you."

He held the sword in his hands and ran his fingers over the wings of the Phoenix. It was undeniably exquisite, beautiful and pricy like his new attire.

"Thank you a lot Archer," he breathed with a smirk creeping onto his face.

Archer pushed his face away, "Shut up Cortland."


	4. FOUR

**All characters belong to the lovely Sarah J. Maas.**

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><p>FOUR<p>

Sam couldn't stop sweating as he stood surrounded by four guards that were close enough to breath down on his neck. Archer was standing beside him motionless, not even showing one sign of anxiousness unlike he was.

He couldn't help it. He could feel the obsidian eyes of the King occasionally on him like he could see right through his charade. With an exasperated sigh through his nose, Sam observed the other twenty-two competitors around him.

Some were thin like snakes and others were burly and looked bigger than a bull. At least three guards surrounded each man and four surrounded himself. Three of other competitors were _chained_ along with half a dozen guards watching their every movement, their every breath. This was far more serious than he thought.

One of the competitors, a tall brawny brute gave him a toothy smile and a wink. He was obviously seeking trouble that Sam wanted to avoid.

As his eyes flickered from face to face, he couldn't see the spark of mischief in their eyes. They were just blank, nothing shouted a challenge, nothing screamed intelligence.

The thick glass doors open and a blonde woman wearing a burst of colours on her two-piece gown and a guard with a stern look on his young face enter.

_Celaena_.

He bit his tongue to stop himself from screaming her name.

She looked amazing and healthy as ever, like she hasn't spent the last years working in the Salt Mines. Her eyes stayed locked on the marble flooring, not even bothering to look up until the King spoke.

His tongue was beginning to bleed.

"Now, we can finally begin since the last competitor has bothered to show up," he spat.

At first, she glanced at the prince beside her whom gave her a wry smile. A pang of jealousy hit him. No, he was just being ridiculous. Celaena would never love a Havilliard.

Her eyes scanned the each champion one by one in boredom. He expected her to freeze at the sight of him living but instead she didn't even notice him, like he was just another competitor.

Maybe she forgot all about him and didn't remember what the sight of him looked like. He sighed as he ran his fingers through his naturally untangled hair. He was being ludicrous. She would never forget him if her love for him was real and he was highly certain that it was... Or he just want it to be.

_Just wait until this meeting is over_. _You will find her and she will remember you,_ he assured himself but doubt lingered in the back of his mind.

"In the next thirteen weeks you will be competing for the title of my champion. You will train daily and there will be a test once a week as you live in my dwelling," the King recited.

Only thirteen weeks instead of twenty-four. The implication that some us will die during those thirteen weeks was clear as day. Hopefully he would survive until then. Hopefully.

"There will also be additional tests that we will act upon whensoever we please. If you don't complete these tests in time or the result you submit is unsatisfactory, you will be sent back to living your worthless lives," he continued.

A test or two for thirteen weeks and with only having a week of training… Sam sighed louder through his nose. Archer slightly turns towards him and gives him a threateningly glance. He has to pretend to scratch the corner of his lips to hide his smile.

"The last four Champions will have a duel for the title a week after Yulemas. I am to depart next week and won't return until Yulemas but I will still be able to order for any one of you to be beheaded," the King pauses and gives Celaena a wide, sadistic grin. She turns pale but doesn't look away. Good girl.

"You're all dismissed."

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><p>The minute Sam exited the room, he searched for Celaena –turning down every corner and opening every unlocked door he came upon. The castle was like an endless maze and he soon found himself walking in circles.<p>

He almost gave up until he heard her laughter, her beautiful joyous laughter that sounded like an angel's. He stood still and shut his eyes, focusing on the direction of where her laughter came from.

_Straight, turn left then turn right_.

Once he took the right that would lead him to Celaena he saw her with her arms linked with the young man who entered the room with her before, smiling like how she used to smile at him…

This felt wrong. He couldn't just barge into her new life without him, who knows how long it had taken her to find a liking to another man again. He ran his fingers through his hair and left it there, clenching his dark hair and sighed. She would be better off without him…

Just when he turned to walk away she said his name and he froze into place. No, no, he _melted_. Hearing her say his name was like drinking water after being stranded in the Red Desert. An affectionate relief.

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><p>"Sam?" Celaena called louder down the empty hall, sliding her arm out of Chaol's hold. She could feel Chaol Westfall's and the guards stationed outside her door eyes on her.<p>

It couldn't be Sam. It _can't_ be Sam. Sam was _dead_. She held his corpse herself in her own arms. But there he was, awkwardly turning around and smiling the same old smile he used to always give her.

_No_.

This must be the King's doing or she had finally gone mad. Sam couldn't possibly be here, _here of all places_. This was too good to be true.

"Celaena," he breathed, sliding his hands into his trouser pockets, shyly looking at her. He looked different. His dark hair has grown out and now a scar lives on his eyebrow to the top his eye but he was still Sam. Her Sam.

And then, she was running –running down the hall despite her massive gown and heels. Tears welled in her eyes as her body collided with his. With her up-do of curls fallen and her painful high heels discarded, she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tight enough that he couldn't manage to let go even though he wasn't going to.

"Well someone has gotten heavier," he groans, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her closer. Even though they haven't seen each other in over a year, he still insulted her even if it was jokingly.

She laughed through her sobs and smacked his chest. It was so _Sam_ to joke even when she was a crying mess.

A hand harshly grabs her elbow and pulls her back. She is momentarily dazed until she sees Chaol standing in between them, his face inches away from Sam's, scowling.

"What is the meaning of this?" he roared, tightening his grip on her elbow. She could see her skin turning white and she bit her lip from screaming.

Sam grabbed his wrist, "let go of her, you're hurting her."

Chaol shoved his hand away and glowered, "Don't touch me filthy Champion."

"Then let go of me Chaol," she calmly said, pulling her hand out of his relaxing grip. She could see Chaol sudden regret of wording but she didn't care.

She side-stepped around Chaol and stood next to Sam, sliding her hand into his. It was soft and warm like the feeling he gave her when he smiled at her.

Celaena took a deep breath in and exhaled.

"Now that you've calmed down Chaol," she shot him a look that made even him cringe, "I would like you to meet Sam, Sam Cortland, my partner or I don't know what to call it…" She glanced up at Sam helplessly and he grinned.

"How about my fiancé," he murmured so only Celaena could hear and she heard it, crystal clear.


	5. FIVE

**I didn't expect to be busy during my holiday o.o but here's an extra lengthy chapter, enjoy.**

**All characters belong to the lovely Sarah J. Maas. **

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><p>FIVE<p>

"Your _fiancé_?" she scoffed, raising an eyebrow at Sam as she exited her bathroom. Wearing a dark tunic and pants, she sat down beside him on her silky bed that could fit a wyvern –the largest wyvern in the wastes. He didn't know why she was so surprised, he thought it was a good idea, romantic even.

"I thought it was a good idea, romantic even. What's wrong with me wanting to spend the rest of my life with you?," He could see her resisting an aww as she chewed her bottom lip but it soon subsided.

"It's crazy and you tell me _now_, as we are living in the King's castle? Lucky Chaol didn't hear," she sighed as she curled her toes. She looked tired ever since he told her the whole story of why he was alive. Throughout the explanation she kept cursing and crying and damming Abroynn to hell. It was rather amusing to watch.

"Chaol Westfall, Captain of the Royal Guards, huh?" his voice sounded more hurt than he wanted to show.

When she introduced him to Sam he was surprised that he was part of the Royal Guards and he was the captain at such a young age. He didn't reveal his astonishment at the time, he merely nodded, he didn't want him to have the satisfactory.

Celaena dramatically turned to face him and scowled her famous scowl. He missed it. Just to annoy her, he smiled the smile she loves and she punched him. Hard.

"Ouch," he said, shocked as he rubbed his chest. She was stronger than ever. What did they feed the Champions here? Where could he get some?

"He's… Nothing now, don't worry about him," she whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck and he saw her grin for a split second. Even though he only saw a flash of it, he knew her smile was sad.

He chuckled, softly pushing her off him, "Slow down assassin, tell me how you came here escorted by the crown prince of Adarlan."

Her eyes darkened and hollowed for a moment as she remembered all that she's been through. He took her hand into his and she gave him a small smile, coming back to reality. Her fingers were slender and slim like herself but they were also cold. Her hands were always cold.

"Oh… Well I went to avenge your death but then I was caught. I was set up," he could see her clenching her free fist and he took that hand into his as well and her grip relaxed. He didn't mention her lack of detail because watching her talk about what happened all in a rush, like she might get caught by the principal for cheating in a test, he could tell how hard it was for her.

"Someone from the Assassin's Guild set me up and then I was taken to the Salt Mines and worked as a slave for over a year..." Her voice broke as she finished her sentence.

This was an entirely new Celaena Sardothien. Stronger but due to having suffered so much. The lost of a loved one, betrayal from a friend, working as a slave and now having to fight to work for the King, the man who burned her home.

But she was still a girl, an eighteen year girl, she still had times when she broke down and cried out of frustration and now was one of those times even if it was rare…

"They whipped me Sam, so many times that now some of the wounds haven't completely sealed," she said through her sobs, holding her hands up to her face as she weighed her upper body down to her knees.

He grabbed her hands again and placed them by her side, holding her in an embrace as she soaked his new attire. Archer will certainly love that.

She wasn't completely broken or completely lost like the other slaves he has met. However, the Salt Mines still has chipped a tiny bit of her soul, a bit of her sanity and hope.

Her tears were warm against his neck as she silently cried. He wasn't used to a situation where Celaena Sardothien, the most notorious Assassin, was crying on him, leaning on him for help but he didn't flinch under the new circumstance.

He would adapt to any situation to make sure she was okay, to make sure she would be fine even if the outcome for himself was unfavourable. It was what he owed her for being alive and staying strong without him.

"What am I doing," she laughed. She has been laughing every time she cried. Was it out of sheer humour or did she find herself ridiculous for crying? Any option would make sense because Celaena was unpredictable like that. He smiled to himself as he inhaled the scent of her hair.

She smelt like fancy expensive lavender soap and the strong scent of metal, like she always has. He didn't really get why people needed expensive lavender soap when they could get cheaper ones and smell exactly the same. When he told Celaena that last year she scowled at him and muttered the word, "Men."

"You're acting like a psychopathic lunatic who just lost her cat," he teased, earning himself a laugh from her. Her mood recovered quickly like she was waiting for him to change the atmosphere from depressing to somewhat joyous.

"Oh my Wyrd, Buttons! Where are you buttons!" she cried, clinging to his shirt and making absurd frowning faces.

He raised both of his eyebrows because he was unable to do just one, "_Buttons?_"

"I thought it was a good idea, romantic even."

Sam scowled at her and she winked in return. God, she was adorable.

Grabbing her waist, he pulled her up onto his lap. "Can you stop doing that."

"Doing what Sam Cortland?" she said, their noses touching each other. She was so delicate and soft that he was afraid he was going to break her just by holding her.

"Making me want to kiss you…"

She laughed, making her body shake. "It's not my fault I'm so irresistible."

Battering her eyelashes slowly she leaned in so their lips were less than a centimetre apart, driving him mad. They stayed like that for a few seconds more, savouring the moment, and when Sam leaned in for the kiss, she shoved him back and descended his lap, smirking.

"Chaol told me we had an hour before I needed to meet him in the training room to spend with you. I guess our hour is up," she shrugged her shoulders and made a false sad face that even a fairy could see through.

He sighed dramatically, "I'm starting to not like this Chaol guy."

She laughed as she swung her door open to leave the room and Sam followed her, sneaking a peck on the cheek that made her shriek shortly in surprise. Oh living with her is going to be fun.

* * *

><p>With his hand on the handle of the door to his chambers, Sam sees Archer leaning against the round table in the foyer, arms crossed and eyes narrowed. The dying flowers on the table look happier than he did.<p>

"Where have you been?" He says in a calm voice that meant he was angry, he was just controlling it. Sam runs his hand through his hair, how is he going to play this through?

"With Sardothien."

He growls and his mask of neutrality breaks like falling glass.

"You have thirteen bloody weeks to spend with her. You have the beginning of your official training tomorrow where you will meet the other competitors," the young courtesan moves to the dining room and takes a seat, waiting for Sam to join.

He closes door before taking a seat across from Archer whose arms are raised over his head and his feet planted on top of the oak table. The layout of the room was identical to Celaena's but instead of a billiard table there was a fish tank with an assortment of tropical fish –presumably smuggled from Eyllwe.

"Will you be training with me?" he asks, staring at the hidden place of where his tattoo lays. When did he get it? What was its significance? What did it represent? Why did he have to cover it?

He lowers his arms and legs, his temper suddenly gone, "No. I will make arrangements for you to be trained with Celaena tonight."

That was quite fortunate. Too fortunate.

"What will _you_ be doing?" Sam questions nonchalantly, cleaning underneath his nails as if he was bored.

He could feel Archer Finn's eyes on him, observing, weighing, analysing.

"I will depart the castle tonight after I make the training arrangements, Madam Clarisse is in need of help with Courtesan paperwork, you know, the usual."

Yes, he did know but she never asked for Archer's assistance before, she always asked one of her maids in her home when Abroynn assigned him to attending Clarisse's and Lysandra's needs.

"I won't be back until two weeks before Yulemas because I have some of my own work to do,"_ lead a rebel group he means._

Archer gets out of his chair smoothly, "that reminds me, I have to do some packing. Stay alive Cortland."

Sam watches wordlessly as his sponsor leaves the room for an eleven week vacation. What in the world just happened? If he was going to be gone for the majority of the competition then why did he agree to being his sponsor! How absurd was this situation!

He pinches between his eyebrows and exhales loudly. Everything will be fine whether Archer was here or not. He needs some sleep.

Sam called for his servants to draw him a bath before he fell into bed to get some rest before training tomorrow, dreaming at last about something other than that one night where everything fell apart.


	6. SIX

**My writing times for these chapters have been unorganised since the break I went on and I've been reading the Mortal Instruments so yeah, sorry. (It's really good omg, up to the third book already)**

**All characters belong to the lovely Sarah J. Maas .**

* * *

><p>SIX<p>

Sam was in the far corner training his combat skills against a dummy unlike the other competitors with their sponsor's trainers to train them. _Damn Archer, always thinking about himself_. His punches were beginning to harden, making bits of sand spill out.

This was what Archer had always done when they were young, leave when he and Celaena needed him most –when they got in trouble is what he meant. But this time it isn't some petty thief work, this was his neck on the line and now he has left for more than ten weeks.

A cold finger jabs his shoulder. Sam turns to see Celaena beaming at him and he couldn't help but smile back. He would survive without Archer because he had Celaena and that was all he needed, Celaena.

"Chaol just told me you were to train with us. Come," she turned on her heels and made her way across the room to where Chaol was examining blades.

Walking behind Celaena, Sam noticed that her clothes were too big for her. Her brown shirt started at her shoulder blades and finished a quarter over her thigh and her pants were baggy but that didn't stop her from swaying her hips as she walked like she always did. She had a swagger that nobody else had.

With a blade in his hand, Chaol points it between them, "Who wants to go first?"

A wisp of hair fallen from her braid kisses his face as Celaena steps forward, grabbing a sword from the rack of weapons on the stone wall.

"Let's see how good you are Sardothien," Chaol says, taunting, but her face is emotionless, the face she wears when she's about to kill a house full of people.

As they take their fighting stances, Sam moves to the wall where no weapons live and leans on it, waiting to watch the match. He hasn't seen Celaena fight in a long time. She would always beat him and anyone who versed her, except for Abroynn. No one could beat Abroynn.

With their swords still in their positions, Celaena began muttering words at Chaol and he caught fragments of the conversation.

"… The basics? You do realise I could have forgotten after being in the Salt Mines for over a year?" She whispered, frustration gleaming in her eyes.

Chaol replies quieter with his face empty of any sign of emotion. Celaena makes a remark in return that makes him growl and attack first, lunging his word at Celaena but she was prepared for it. She parries it easily with her own blade, sending a loud screech in the air that is drowned out by the other competitors training.

They did a series of similar parries, her body moving in time with the beat of the their fight, almost like they were dancing. She was swift and fast like a leopard but he was also. It was mesmerising to watch -_she_ was mesmerising to watch.

Just when Celaena was about to do the finishing strike, Chaol hooks her foot and points the point of his sword at her heart. The match is done.

Breathless, Celaena throws a scowl at Chaol, "That was hardly fair! You had to resort to tripping me over?"

He shrugs but it looked awkward with his formality, "I don't see a blade over my heart."

A short, stumpy man walks to the centre of the room and bangs on the ground with a spear.

"Everyone here, _now_," he demanded. Celaena glances at Chaol and he nods, grabbing her sword out her hand before putting it away. Sam walks to the circle around the stocky man and he senses Celaena following beside him.

"I am the judge of this competitions and the Master of Weapons, Theodus Brullo. I will be the one who determines whether you are fit to be a Champion but of course the King gets the final judge of all of you."

He moved his eyes along the the competitors slowly, taking them in, and when his eyes fell on Sam they paused for a moment before moving on. What caught his attention?

"Fifty-five years I have lived in this castle and I've been Master of Weapons for thirty of those years. It will be very difficult to impress me. I've trained lords and knights and as many would-be champions as the lot of you."

Chaol has slid in between them, his posture straighter than usual as if he was regarding a superior. Perhaps this Theodus guy has trained him.

"The king has told you most of what is going to happen but I can tell by the way you sad lot look at each other that you can't wait to find out who they are," he points a finger at the massive broad shouldered man who gave a trouble-seeking smile to him last time, "Your name, where you are from and your occupation and don't lie people, it's just a waste of time."

He smiles mischievously making his stomach flip, "My name is Cain, the White Fang Mountains and a soldier in the King's army."

The White Fang Mountains where majority of their population rebelled against Adarlan. The people from the White Fang Mountains had a brutality and fierceness to them that frightened other people from invading their region.

Without any sign of interest, Brullo pointed to the next Champion, "What about you?"

"Xavier Forul, Melisande Master of Thieves," he sneered. He was lanky with thin blonde hair, his slimness would of aided him when stealing but to call himself the master was cocky. Immediately other competitors gave him annoyed looks, they were probably thieves themselves.

Each of the other twenty champions took turns introducing themselves. There were three more thieves and six other soldiers –all under the King's rule. Three mercenaries and two murderers in shackles.

One of the murderers had the name The Eye Eater and as his name suggests, he ate the eyes of his victims. He didn't wear fine clothing but he didn't wear rags. He looked normal, like someone you'd see on the street but his mouth was scarred. Sam fought the urge to feel his own lips.

The other murderer, Ned Clement used the Scythe for the weapon he used to kill and torture temple priestess. He kept clenching and unclenching his fists like he was trying not to strangle someone. All the guards had their eyes on him.

There were so many guards around them, almost forty in total. It felt almost suffocating to stand in a room with ruthless trained guards and criminals.

Two men, who looked older than Brullo, came after. They kept to themselves and were quiet. Five other assassins introduced themselves but he could tell by the way they talked and walked that they didn't have the grace and swiftness of a assassin that would be a competition against him. If they did, they would be in the Red Desert or the Assassin's Guild and Abroynn wouldn't invite any of them to join

Celaena came next. He couldn't wait to see the shocked faces of the other competitors that she was Celaena Sardothien, the most notorious Assassin in Adarlan and Abroynn Hamel's prodigy.

"Lillian Gordania, a Bellhaven jewel thief," she said, her chin raised, dismissing the snigger the other Champions gave her.

A _jewel_ _thief_? He had to bite the inside of his mouth to stifle his laugh. Who came up with that brilliant idea? By the way Celaena dug her fingers into her arm, he could tell she want so thrilled about her alias.

Brullo turns to him, lifting his chin in his direction, "And you?"

Sam held his hand behind his back and straightened his posture like he was talking to Abroynn, "Nathaniel Wellington, came from Meah, Assassin."

The Weapons Master stared at him with his grey eyes, narrowing them, "Nathaniel, from Meah yeah?"

"Yes, sir."

His dark eyes lingered on him for a moment longer like he was trying to figure out a puzzle before he turned back to the group.

"The first test will be in five days. We will now do mandatory run to test how fit you are but you have five minutes to rest. Those who are unable to run the distance will be sent straight home."

Sensing the dismissal, the other Champions turned to their sponsors, discussing about who they thought was the biggest threat. To him, he found Cain was out of all the other competitors. There was something dark about him that he couldn't quite understand but he could tell that it was something bad.

He turned to Celaena and whispered, "A_ jewel_ thief?"

She slapped him immediately and scowled at Chaol who watched them with amusement twinkling in his eyes.


	7. SEVEN

**All characters belong to the lovely Sarah J. Maas **

* * *

><p>SEVEN<p>

Sam loved running. He loved the burning feeling in your lungs and the strain in your muscles. To him, it helped him know that he was alive. Chaol told both him and Celaena to stay in the middle of the group of Champions. Judging by Celaena's harsh breaths, he could tell she was having some difficulty so he kept in pace with her even when she slowed. He was surprisingly fitter than Celaena.

Cain lead the pack and had a ten metre distance between the other Champions. If Sam wasn't ordered to stay in the middle he would be way past Cain but he didn't need to draw attention to himself, he just needed to survive.

Seeing Cain wave his hands in the air meant that he was at the finish mark near the stables. Only a few more metres to go. The gravel path hurt the soles of his feet, the thin material of his shoes not being much of a help.

_Breathe in and out._ His lungs were on fire but it comforted him. It reminded him of the long days when Abroynn made him run around the whole of Rifthold five times –down every alley and through every street. He had a time limit then, he an hour and he always had a minute to spare.

Meeting up with the other champions, Sam slowed to a walk with Celaena beside him, her face red and sweaty. She looked like she was going to die of exhaustion.

"Good job," Brullo said, "We have more training, get water."

Reining his horse, he joined the guards on their horses and started murmuring to them, taking occasional glances at the group who first returned.

Still watching Brullo, Sam hears Chaol speaking, "Where do you think you're going?"

He turns around to see Celaena walking back into the woods, passing Chaol on his dark horse.

She waves a hand, "I dropped something, my ring," she took a gasp of air, "Just let me find it."

Celaena wasn't wearing a ring. Watching her from a distance, he saw her drop to her knees and vomit. Vomit a lot. Knowing Celaena, he didn't approach her. It would kill her pride. Chaol gazed at her as well, pursing his lips with something glinting in his eyes. Disgust? Empathy? Pity? It soon subsided once she turned around, wiping her mouth and not even looking at either of them as she walked towards the castle.

He began to follow her when a articulate voice calls his name. "Nathaniel."

Sam whirls around to see Chaol staring at him. Obediently, he sauntered towards him, still dizzy from the run.

"Yes?" He asked, taking a quick glance at Celaena to make sure she wasn't fainting. She looked horribly sick.

He could feel Chaol's eyes on him then trailing to where he was looking. Sam looks at him and sees him frowning.

"Celaena is a very… different compared to other women," Chaol whispered, still watching her.

He was going to say _obviously because she's an assassin _but Sam nodded in response instead.

"So make sure you look after her," Chaol took off on his steed before Sam could comprehend his words. Look after her? Why would he care?

Watching the Captain of the Royal Guards riding on a horse towards the woman he love, he realised something that was plainly obvious. Things were going to get troublesome and all he wanted to do was sleep.

* * *

><p>By the time Brullo finally dismissed them, it was lunch. Only lunch. He just wanted to go to his silky bed and envelope himself in its soft blankets, that was all he wanted. Sam sat across from Celaena in her dining room with Chaol seated at the end, eating a plate of salmon.<p>

On his own plate, he had roasted potatoes and chunks of beef. Celaena makes a disgusted sound. He glances up and sees her scowling at Chaol.

"How can you eat that?" she gagged and covered her nose. Her hair was wet from the bath she just had and it laid limply over her shoulder. Now that he thought about it, her hair has always been the same length ever since he's met her –just above her waist and not a centimetre over.

"What's wrong with Salmon?" He asked, wiping his mouth with the embroidered napkin. He had a scar across his knuckles. No ring.

She crinkled her nose, "I'd rather die than eat fish, I hate it."

"That's weird because you smell like one," he pointed at her with his fork, his smile smug. Sam ate silently as he observed their exchange, chewing quietly so he wouldn't disturb them. It felt awkward being there.

Sam watched Chaol as he continued to smirk at Celaena. There it was again, that something twinkling in his eyes and now Sam knew what it was. The sound of a chair scraping against the marble floor fills the room and he turns to see Celaena stretching her arms a over her head.

She sighed, "Chaol, do you think it would be okay if Sam stayed in my chambers with me for the duration of the competition."

He choked on a potato, surprised. What was she thinking!

Chaol leaned back on his chair and gazed at Celaena, then Sam, and then Celaena again. The silence in the room was daunting.

"Fine," was all he said before he left the room. Well that turned out better than he expected. They stood there staring at each other, stunned by Chaol's sudden harshness until Celaena broke into a laugh.

"What's his problem?" She scoffed, taking a sip of water from her glass. Everything she did was graceful… Except for her eating habits. She ate ravenously like it was the last meal she was going to have but he didn't mind because he understood why she ate how she did.

He grinned and got out of his chair, "I should go get my stuff then."

"Yes, that's a good idea," she returned his smile and went over to kiss him briefly, holding him like he might disappear.

He could feel her smiling as she kissed him, raising her hands to play with his hair. Her lips were softer that spider silk and he just wanted to kiss her over and over again. He stumbled as she took a step back and went to open the door for him.

"Hurry back Sam."

* * *

><p>Making his way to his chambers, Sam couldn't help but get the feeling that he was being followed. With the endless hall ways and uncountable doors to rooms that held the most random things –he came across a room that was solely used to store empty cardboard boxes- he found that it was impossible to tell if someone was following him because there were so many servants and nobles everywhere.<p>

Though, a nagging voice in he back of his mind screamed _danger!_

A turn away from his door, a figure covered in black intercepts his path. Who in the Wyrd is this-

"Sam Cortland," a deep remote voice said. His face was hidden in the shadows of his coat and he couldn't see his feet or hands. He didn't reply or make a sound.

"Abroynn has been looking for you," it breathed like it was tired and bored. At that, he stiffened and he could feel the colour of his face drain. His tongue was dry. Sam wanted to run to Celaena but he knew the man would only follow him, putting Celaena in danger, so he didn't.

"This may hurt," he could sense the man smiling and before he knew it, his world went dark and hands were on him.

* * *

><p>Celaena sighed as she stared at the grandfather clock. It had been two hours and Sam still hadn't returned. Maybe he was angry that she stop kissing him. Maybe he was having trouble packing. Or maybe he was in trouble…<p>

_No, stop,_ she thought, _You're safe here, away from The Assassins Guild._

But she couldn't help thinking about the last time he disappeared for hours and hours and of her being told of his death…

She stood up from the couch and stuffed a spoon into her pocket. It was better than nothing. She was just going to walk to his chambers to check if everything was okay. Throwing the door open and running to his room, Celaena couldn't stop a sick feeling in her stomach. Sam had to be safe.


End file.
